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Rebuild Of 1000 Swords

I'll repost the intro, info and profiles before my own first post in order to avoid having to switch topics to check or read them when anyone needs it.

Suggestions/rules

We have enough swordsmen; we'll begin the story with small groups of two or three,
travelling the world while fending off villains, rivals, which you may create as you please, but not too many of course; or even facing off with other groups.
If you wish to travel alone, that's great too; another idea is to invite one or more of your friends to join this RP, and travel together as one group.

If you want to make a subplot involving another RPer his or hers character(s), always ask first if they're okay with it.

More details and rules put into place for the preservation of every RP'er's enjoyment equally, will be added when I think of them :P

Have fun!

Some ground rules:

- In order to make sure no character gets ahead in the story too much and leaving the others to fill a huge gap in time where they did absolutely nothing, every member will post exactly one time in no particular order. When I post, a new row is opened and everyone may post again. I end and begin every row of posting so that everything's tidy and organized (yes, not even a barbarian warlord character is allowed to post multiple times because he feels like it). However, two or at most three post may be posted when you're fighting a fellow RP'er, since you're forced to post shorter entries as you counter the other RP'er's actions.
- No rushing me; I will update this RP whenever all of the others have posted their entry. That'll be enough both because of me having other things to do, like exams coming up. I'm doing as much as is to be expected when one first thinks about his real life, then some RP on a forum.
- No rushing any member; I will politely inquire if they're still participating if they don't post for a period of time of which I will decide the length of for every instance. Don't forget it will be common for at least one participant to have some writer's block at times; it could very well be you. Only offer help to them/him/her if they ask for it.
- I live in a GMT+1 timezone, so trying to catch me online or expecting I'll post max. 3 hours after you... You can forget that
- To keep things tidy, I'd like for you to send PM's (not e-mails and not posts in here) to me and only me for suggestions about how the 1000 swords world differs from our own, both history, laws of physics (I'm talking about the swords' and sphere's abilities), technology (if guns are invented, how do they stand up to the swords for example), new characters, etc.
- Send a PM to the respective member when you want to use his or her character in your entry to ask for his permission and to discuss storylines; send it to all the other members from the RP if you want to discuss it with the whole group.
- If you just want to continue the story, you can post of course xD it's what this topic is for.
- Decide amongst yourself if you will travel together and how you decide who 'leads' the 'pack', so to speak. You can also create more sword wielders or non-wielders to travel along with you, as long as there's not too many of us.
- Rivals and enemies can be created as well, but for everything: keep it tidy. If you think it might go to 'demigods', 'alternate dimension visitors', ' aliens', 'supernatural beings or entities', things like that which far surpass this world or any of our characters, first ask through a PM if it's gonna fit according to MY opinion.
-PG-13; for special instances, first ask before we get locked for mature content.
- Hey, most importantly: have fun writing a thrilling story

World building notes

This world is a lot like ours: not far from New York, Ian's story starts for example. However, the legendary swords are not all that separates this world from being our own.

Magic

Everyone is born with a talent for using magic, which can only be truly useful through training, experience and studying. Some are more naturally adept at conjuring up magic and understanding its inner workings than others. There are many systems and schools of thought: those that use ancient runes to call on mystic beings, others inscribe symbols on the ground or tattoo them on their bodies as premade spells, others use their words to make might, while some need an external source of power or treat it like a measurable science like any other. All magic, except legendary magic, is bounded to logical rules.

Sword wielders: dangerous individuals or homicidal outlaws?

With today's modern communication networks, it wasn't long before many people heard the stories about the boys, girls, men and women who took what they wanted with the terrifying abilities of their legendary swords, whose magic was so ancient and mysterious that only this form of magic could ignore most laws of nature, although not infinitely. They even turned out to be bulletproof, as the sword temporarily halted its magical abilities to instinctively defend itself from any projectile or magic that could harm it. If the sword was close enough to the wielder, he or she was protected as well. This didn't shield the wielder from the after effects of a spell or the heavy artillery that had been developed after many years of trial and error. The sword wouldn't protect its 'master' from harm when the wielder was too weak to harness its true power.

Law enforcement, the army and plain old civilians are very wary of the sword wielders and will try to gang up on them if they show any sign of using their sword. Some have banded together to raid villages or innocent travellers and others just want to survive. There is also the whole quest for ultimate power. And some people are power-hungry enough to obtain it within due time.

Secrets of the legendary swords

Every wielder has a certain affinity for every sword which is distinct from their affinity for and experience with magic, although they can intersect. Some might never reveal their ability in the hands of a wielder while others can be discovered through handling it some time and others again might share its ability right away, depending on the type of ability. Legendary magic is the only form that can defy the laws of nature, though limited by circumstances and the wielder's affinity and experience with the sword. The sword has no mind, no allegiance... but it has a survival instinct as described above.

Weapons, technolgoy and vehicles

Those that can reasonably be procured in the present day may be used, but cannot be super-engineered or overpowered. Naturally, the bullet-proof shield makes the weapons not that useful. Unless they are used very cleverly... A means of transportation is always handy.

Any technology is allowed if it has clear limits and well-defined abilities. And actually exists.

Profiles

My own sign-up following right now.

Name: Ian Mantris
Age: 16-17
Gender: Male.
Description: Ian is about 5' 9" tall with a medium build, for his age. He has very dark blue eyes,
with his dark brown hair, not quite short but not that long either, arranged in no particular doo or something like that.
He wears a rain coat over a plain blue sweater, with brown pants to go with it. In short, he doesn't look all that distinguishable from others or good looking for that matter, safe for his intriguing blue eyes.
Personality: Wary about any new people he meets, but very open to the ones that take the time to get to know him, and always polite, but relatively silent.
History: Ian came from a family of four, with one younger sister, and two younger brothers. His sense of responsibility largely came from his role as the oldest of the family, which he still takes up whenever he comes across teenagers that are younger then him or little kids. One day, he came across the sword during a raid on his home town. He took it upon himself to learn how to wield it, to be able to protect others in need.
Sword: Raghitey (pronounced 'ra-gi-they'), literally 'the Bond Wrecker', because of its long and cruel history of it being thought as the 'scissor' that cuts the bonds between people, making anyone that knows of its existence, be prone to do whatever it takes to possess it, including, but not limited to, arson, murder, particularly involving members of their own family, poisoning, blinding, deafening and other things done to the previous owner to become its new owner. Because of it being passed on for generations in noble families, such as the numerous French kings and queens, and not that peacefully either, many have come to believe that it is the ultimate sword of the legends. Indeed, the pattern its indent forms has been found in many ancient tombs and hidden in world's greatest pieces of artwork. It consists of a winglike triangle, with a single eye in the middle. The sword itself is quite long, with a simple but sturdy handle, and a rugged heavy blade, darkened by the gruesome acts of its former owners. Its thickness and weight makes it most suitable for fighters like Ian who depend on power and timing more then agility or trickery.

CaptainUrio's profile

Name: John Chous
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Description: He wears glasses and has light brown hair, is 5' 7", wears a blue trench coat, jeans and a white T-shirt.
Personality: He’s calm and serious and very silent, but used to be much more impulsive and has a strong feeling for justice. He respects the knightly valor. He always stands up for others.
History: When he was two he was abandoned by his parents at the king's doorstep. When he turned seven he was recruited as a page for the great knight Azerot. One of the servants Chuck was seven years older than John and was good friends with John. When he turned thirteen he met the king's daughter. They instantly got along and as their friendship deepened, the king noticed. At the age of fourteen he graduated to a squire and started serving the king. One year later she had an arranged marriage with a French prince and left the castle.
Sword: Sleza (which means tear) it has the ability to absorb and release everything if he pays attention. It releases the energy etc. as energy for the magic of the user through the hilt or as a flame out of the back of the hilt. The indent's pattern looks like teardrop. the sword also looks like a teardrop with the narrow side attached to the Cross guard. It also has a blood groove. The sword was in the royal family for many generations until there was a raid because of the sword.

ShredderMachine's profile

Name: Trigonius

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Description: Dark-blond short hair. Sleeveless black shirt, small shreds in the fabric from long-time use, dried blood off many fights surrounding them. Hard, very serious face. Black jeans with the same blood stains.

Personality: A young man, trained for a future he never wanted. No sense of humor. Very muscled from many trainings. He barely talks, only if his employer demands him. Sees no need of friends or anyone of the kind. Gets angry if things take too long.

History: Born in a warrior family, he has always been training for his future as a mercenary, just as his father. Having lost his family when he was 12 in a fire, he fled the scene. An action he regrets for the rest of his life. Wandering from town to town he never talked too many people and became the silent boy/man he is today. He always knew his path would be revealed to him one day and that one day came very soon when he met Tragact.

Sword: Tragact, meaning Forces. A broadsword with small marks shaped as trapeziums. When Tragact uses his gravitational powers these shapes come out of the blade and start orbiting around it. This sword was made out of small pieces which had gravitational forces. Forged together they had the power to alternate the forces that were happening between two objects for example the earth and the moon. When using these powers the user would also undergo these changes for example a surge in the earth’s gravity. When Trigonius was again wandering from one city to the other the sword came flying at him as if Trigonius pulled it towards him with a strange power. After barely avoiding the spinning blade, he was attacked by men, wanting the sword. Trigonius, not wanting a fight, wanted to give them the sword, but he couldn’t let go of it. On the contrary, the blade went flying, with Trigonius still attached, towards one of the attackers who got the flat side of the blade land in his stomach.
Fitzwim's profile

Name: Tomo Chemecaps

Age: 19

Gender: male

Description: 6' tall with a rather heavy build. Has short dark hair and grey eyes, with a shade of blue. Usually wears normal jeans accompanied by a T-shirt, a sweater and a raincoat for obvious uses. He is not exactly the most athletic person in the world.

Personality: a person with a rather cowardly predisposition to life, Tomo has a fear of feeling pain. This makes him much more inclined to fleeing instead of fighting, with the exception of fights that he is sure to win. knowing his own cowardice, he instead to support his teammates by using his intellect to solve problems. These attempts are often hampered by his lack of experience, though.

Often shy around strangers, but very open to friends. He is also protective towards friends, in the sense that he will always try to offer his support and advice to friends who need it. He will only directly fight for his friends when they are in mortal danger, though. Particulary noteworthy is the fact that he has a tendency to value friendships regardless of that person’s affiliation, effectively allowing him to communicate with people of various factions.

Tomo’s primary strength comes from his advanced knowledge of various branches of science and magic, being one of the only persons in the world who can actually understand and combine the advanced theoretical principles of both magic and science in various devices.

History: Tomo’s past is mostly shrouded in history, except for the fact that he is heavily affiliated with a secret cult that seeks to keep advanced knowledge of magic and its uses hidden from the world using any means possible. Yet, his primary subject of interest, the magic of the 1000 swords, is forbidden even within the cult itself. This forces him to study this type of magic outside the cult, effectively making him a rebel. As a result, he does not feel any significant loyalty to the cult. Furthermore, his obsession with the swords and his pragmatic approach to loyalty allows him to switch factions fairly easy.

Sword:

-Knife: As odd as it may be, Knife seems like an ordinary chisel shaped knife accompanied with a wooden handle carrying a triskelion-shaped indent at the handle. It is likely that not even Tomo himself knows its true name, but given the fact that Tomo dislikes swords with names, it’s very possible that Tomo simply refuses to call it by its true name out of stubbornness. Knife is a legitimate legendary “sword” and has an extremely high affinity with Tomo. Even so, Knife has yet to display any significant magical abilities, and is mostly kept around for its handy bullet-deflecting abilities.
TenshiAeterna's profile

Name: Koyasha Izuno
Age: 20
Gender: Female

Description:
Approximately 175 Cm tall, she is a fine looking woman. Flexible and athletic.
She wears blueish/purple armored plating and a dark blue leather cuirass.
Skimpy as her outfit may be, it covers all vital areas and allows for the necessary acrobatics when necessary.
Her hair is white and her blue eyes can pierce even the toughest man's gaze.

Personality:
Even whilst being cold and calculated, she can still find it in her heart to joke around with people close to her. Killing is not an issue, and she has a great sense of duty.
History:
Not much is known about her past. It has been rumored that she was born in the Kai province in japan, and even though no actual proof exists, this is widely taken for a fact.
Her skill with a blade is remarkable, but when possible, she chooses to evade direct confrontation. She has been known to pillage the swords of fallen enemies, but is often seen discarding them.
Because of this, she has been referred to as the 'Collector' by wary adventurers that heard tales of her.
Her goals are not known, but her interest in the mysterious swords has been making many warriors fidgety.
Lately she has been seen on the move more than usual, and has been asking strange questions regarding old mythologies.

Sword:
Her Katana is called the Bievrost. An unmarked weapon, forged by the Legendary goldsmith Ofir. Many years went into forging the weapon and is said to have been Ofir's final creation before he died.
Made from an alloy Ofir never seemed to have revealed to anyone, except to Koyasha.

Even though it is not one of the 1000 swords, there is a certain mysterious quality about it.

Besides her katana she has several unpleasant suprises hidden in her sleeve.

Her role in the 'Legacy of the 1000 swords' will become clear in due time.

It is said,
that in a place, long forgotten by time and people alike,
a great sphere is said to lie, covered in uncountable symbols, each one elaborate and one of a kind,
carved out in relief. Within the sphere there are said to be powers of unmeasurable strength,
only obtainable by channeling it through one of the countless symbols, into a masterfully crafted sword.
However, many swords were made, and as the sword was eyed on by many,
many swords of varying designs were said to be that one ultimate sword,
and after one dynasty fell after the other while ruling the land with it,
not even the rulers themselves could tell if they possessed the sword or not,
and subsequently tried to fuel it with the sphere's energies,
which failed as they didn't find the symbol their 'ultimate' sword locked onto, or, nothing happened when they did.

As many things about the sphere have been lost through the ages, it is also unclear whether there were 1,000 swords in the beginning,
or if one of the first kings that wielded the one and only sword,
commissioned the forging of all the other swords, made to fit onto the other symbols.

That was the tale that came with the blood shedding, the arson, the poisoning, treason... And it wasn't about to end...

Now,
in the present time, countless young men and women have come in the possession of a sword with a mysterious indent in the very top of its handle.
After hearing the countless tales connected to the forgotten legend, each and everyone of them are convinced that they wield the very sword
that will give them the vast power, for them to use as they please.
They have been marked as dangerous and possibly outlaws. Some of them had witnessed a strange power awakening in their swords, others became skillfull in weaponry, various forms of magic and utter wrecking and chaos. Maybe some of them aren't out to kill their fellow humans.

As you've probably guessed,
you're one of them...

That was the tale that came with the blood shedding, the arson, the poisoning, treason... And it wasn't about to end...

My own introduction

Ian and Raghitey

A boy, approximately 16 or 17 years old with dark brown hair over his forehead, gazed at the city that lied in front of him, with his dark blue eyes seeming to pierce through heaven itself. Nonetheless, Ian Mantris was very shy and had only his sword to show his dangerous strength, besides that neverending gaze. He touched his the hilt that wasn't hidden by the sheath as the rest of his sword was, hanging on his back. Raghitey... A sword that was rumored to sever any connection you had with anyone, in your neverending lust to obtain it. And now he had come to possess it, of all people...

How exactly he had obtained it was another gruesome tale, but not for right... Ian heard a sound as he pulled out Raghitey with one swift motion and prepared a thrust, that he himself had invented through his lack of being taught proper swordsmanship. What could it be?

Countless individuals, now long forgotten, have searched for that one significant question. The legendary Swords themselves are powerful and ageless artifacts, whose origins are lost in time. yet it is not their raw power that makes them unique, but rather the properties of such power.

You see, the swords possess unique capabilities capable of breaking the limits of nature's laws. Legends tell of swords capable of generating thermal energy from nothing, or even controlling the movements and properties of atoms.

and it were these unique properties that Tomo wanted to research.

a car was driving through a mountainous landscape, early in the morning, passing through several valleys on its way to its destination. Yet its driver did not care to notice the marvelous sights of the passing lan dscapes, only thinking of his destination.

Driving the car was a 19-year old man. Throughout his life he had learned much of the mechanics of the world, ranging from simple physics to complex magical seals. Yet, as irony would have it, he was forbidden from studying that which interested him the most. If it was ever discovered that he was researching the properties of the legendary swords, he would be sentenced to death.
However, even this couldn't stop his obsession over the swords.

He had found recently found references of ruins located in a distant mountain village which might give some clues regarding the locations of certain swords. As such, he could not resist the temptation and started planning a journey to the village. He had taken care of everything, including booking a flight, contacting the village ahead to make sure he had permission to stay and convincing his superiors that it was just a cultural excursion to gather more experience of archeology.

At long last, he arrived at his destination. The village was located on a plateau-like landscape, on which you could see the ruins of an ancient town. Most likely, these ruins were once abandoned and reďnhabited by the current population, who took advantage of the already available resources.

Prior to his arrival, he had been instructed to go to the building right next to a tall stone tower. It was there that he was greeted by a group, led by the village elder. Shortly after introductions, Tomo could not restrain himself and requested to be allowed to visit the uninhabited parts of the ruins. One could see that they had already discussed this prior to his visit. The elder nodded in agreement and told him that they would allow this only under one condition.

He was to take a guide with him, which was to accompany him at all times. Tomo had no choice but to agree, and he could not help but wonder... What could be the reason that they insisted on him taking a guide with him?

He slowly opened his eyes, after a horrible night, a terrible day would follow. He looked up, the sun was shining through the trees and the birds were chirping. For a moment he thought the recent events were merely a dream, but that thought was interrupted by the sword next to him, slightly pushing into him, like if it was drawn to him.

He picked it off the ground and placed it front of him. He looked at the various marks on the sword, at first glance they looked to originate from many battles, but after further investigation he was able to find different shapes that were all over the sword. There were rhombuses and it looked like the top half was shaped as a regular hexagon but with two parallel sides stretched. All of this looked like it was melted together.

Trigonius stood up and held the sword in front of him. It felt rather light which he did not expect, seeing the size of the blade. The only real weight he felt was it pulling towards him, so instead of lifting the sword he had to push the sword away from him. It seemed like the sword wanted to be close to him, a thought Trigonius immediately wiped from his mind, a sword couldn’t ‘want something’. It’s a piece of metal with some decorations.

But the more he held the sword in his hands, the more the feeling grew. He laid the sword on the ground and grabbed his stuff, which he held in a small duffle bag. While doing this he heard a small scraping sound. Like metal being pulled over the ground. He looked at his sword. Slowly it slid over the ground, again moving towards Trigonius. Trigonius laughed silently as he compared the sword to a baby, not being able to leave his mother for one minute without crying or wanting to be with her.

The smiling stopped however when he knew that with that thought he made him refer to himself as the sword’s mother, bringing him back to the thought of the sword having feelings. He reached for the sword which came flying into his hands. He rubbed over the sword saying: “Easy now, my child, nothing to be afraid off. Mommy… Daddy’s not going anywhere.” The sword seemed to understand and the feeling of the sword pulling towards stopped.

The sword now felt weightless. He putted the sword behind his back, under the duffel bag. He felt the cold steal touch his back through his shirt. But he did not shiver, on the contrary, the steal warmed his back gently pushing against it, making sure they would never be parted.

It was a summer day and the sun was at his highest point. Shining over the city which was build on top of a hill with a gentle slope to it. In the center of the city was a castle with pristine white walls and tall pointy blue roofs. The city was shielded from the big forest around it by thirty-five, ten story high dark grey towers connected by white ten feet thick walls overgrown with vines. In the top of the towers there were six huge mounted crossbows, three of which were pointing inwards and straight down, the other three where loaded and ready scouring the woods for possible threats. There had been no more attacks since the daughter had an arranged marriage whit the France prince which had happened eighteen months ago. John hadn’t been himself since then, she had been his best friend. Until she was forced to marry that Frenchy. God did he hate that guy.
He was strolling through the marketplace past the stalls filled with all kinds of tasty food. It was loud there, John didn’t like too much sound, it always scrambled his mind and it angered him just enough to be noticeable on his face. John had never noticed before but at each corner of a street there where sirens, but according to his memory they had never sounded before. Strange he thought. He ignored the thought and kept walking north away from the gates in the south and to the castle. He wanted to say hi to Chuck, who he had known since he was two years old. He came to the fountain in front of the castle and called to the guards at the top of the outer wall of the castle to open the gate. As the gate opened, he went through and went to the servant dorms. His door was locked and a card was hanging from the handle. It said he was out flying in his plane. Chuck was very proud of his British airplane which was a Spitfire model, he and his father had made it together. It was painted black with red flames and had a special double radial ten cylinder engine installed.
John had flown in it before with Chuck. Chuck was probably going to stay up in the air for ages so John decided to go up to the top of the outer wall of the city to get some fresh air, he might see Chuck as well. He went east to go to tower nine which was closest by, he made a walk to tower two. When he got to tower five the speakers in the tower crackled and a voice said: “All guards on red alert. Large enemy force spotted at the front two gates.”

"Miss Izuno... Miss Izuno?"
The young girl, dressed in a simple bordeaux gown peeped through the opening between the sliding doors.
She walked hesitantly through the flower filled inner sanctum. This is where the village elders... and Koyasha would go to reflect on their previous decisions in life.
Sitting on a small wooden bench, with her legs crossed, Koyasha was dreaming.
Dreaming of times long past, Ofir's wise words and the events that had brought her into the clan.
"Miss Izuno... the clan elders wish to speak to you." the small girl spoke silently.

"Young girls should not tread upon this holy ground" Koyasha spoke sternly.
Eyes filling with curiosity, the girl politely asked:" but... According to the village elders, you are not allowed into the sanctum as well."
A grin filled Koyasha's face. " true enough!"
She stood up and tightened her deep blue kimono.
"Well then, little one,I better get going then."

"This afternoon, a man who goes by the name of Dr Chemecaps presented himself to us."
The village elders sat in a halve circle around Koyasha, the room brimmed with ceremonial candles.
This was not an area in the monastery that one could simply enter, like the inner sanctuary.
"He claimed to be a scolar, sent to perform an academic survey of the Tikrit ruins."
"However...", a different elder continued,"this man is alone."
Koyasha, humbled by the piercing gazes of the 10 men, was not impressed by the story.
In the past, she had been sent on missions with a clear, pressing concern.
This however, was just one foolish man, pursuing knowledge that would be lost in the ages anyway.

"Koyasha", the elder continued,"scolars do not, under normal circumstances, perform such surveys alone..."
"When expeditions into unstable ruins are undertaken, at least 5 well trained individuals are usually to be expected."
"This man is alone"
Koyasha couldn't help but frown at the idea. Perhaps there was more to this than would meet the eye.

"If we where to deny this man his search for knowledge, we would be betraying our own beliefs, however...
There are objects in those ruins that he need not uncover."
The atmosphere had grown from extremely uncomfortable to even worse.

"Koyasha, we place great value in you. You have proven your worth in the past many times, and this should be a mere nuisance to your skills. But please,do not forget what we have taught you in the past. You are to make sure this self pronounced scolar does not stray into things that might endanger him, but more importantly, the clan."

The forest bathed in flames swirling into the air. They started spreading, he had to... Had he seen a silhouette in his dream the night before? As if he had lived through what was to come already. Ian shrugged it off as if it was nothing and walked on.

The quaint little town down the hill looked quite inviting. He stopped by at the local cafe to get a drink to calm the nerves. He glanced over to the bar. Again with the dream. Of one of the many reasons he disliked sleeping, the least important was his overactive imagination, but most certainly the most annoying.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as he tuned into the mumblings of the civilian types at the bar:

"Saw some rune hustlers. Nasty things they can do when they fight the right combination."

"Hey, what about those tattooed types? I've seen them menacing some travellers, didn't want to interfere though. But, what's the police gonna do anyway, huh?"

"But the worst ones... are those sword wielders," a grim-looking person said as he turned to scan the bar.

Ian tried not to draw attention to himself as he kept sipping on his drink. He really couldn't handle trouble right about now.

"You there," the sword wielder hater said. Ian cringed. "You types are all the same aren't you, coming to this little town and expecting to be able to take whatever you want and leave without paying. Well I won't stand for it!"

Ian tried to check him out of the corner of his eye, the man was clearly looking for a fight with him. He couldn't use his sword, he simply couldn't...

He turned to see the man lifting up some stranger and eyeing him.

"You've paid for that drink yet, knife nut?" the hater said. He was clearly more drunk than vindictive.

The thinly built man shivered as the drunk's buddies tried to calm him down by promising the bloke some rounds on them to celebrate peace and quiet in the town and its cafe. Their big guy, who as his best friend explained, turned from gentle to rowdy after a few shots and apologized for him. When he sobered up he'd come do the same, the friend said. The thinly built man just slapped some money on his desk and ran out the bar as fast as possible. Ian couldn't blame him.

I really don't like you, you know, Ian thought. Why was he talking to his sword, he'd been all alone for far too long. Though he didn't expect he'd run into much friendly people on his way to well, nowhere.

Let me handle those wounds, sword wielder, a young nurse with a blunt expression said.

Darn those daydreams about girls really had to stop. Although... He shook his head again. Back to reality. Back to deadly sword fighting and surviving angry civilians.

A figure not so far away sharpened the metal between his hands as he prepared for another day of bloody hold-ups. Marvelous.

The journey to the entrance of the Tikrit ruins did not last as long as Tomo had anticipated, yet he was sweating like he had just come out of a sauna. Once in the past he had bought himself a beige suit for exploration in tropical environments, now however, it turned out that it was really way too warm for the occasion. Mosquito's started gathering around him, attracted by his... uncanny smell.

"I'm doing this for science,"he muttered to himself.

"Did you say something, scientist?" Koyasha asked in a slightly amused tone.
She had heard him just fine, but during the 3 hour hike, they had hardly exchanged words with one another.
This, she judged, was a good point to start a conversation.

"My apologies miss Izuno, but I", *Wheeze*, "am not really capable of idle chit chat right now."
The trails of sweat on his beige blouse started expanding to a ridiculous size, as if that one sentence had exceeded his treshold of physique.

How exactly koyasha managed to still stride with such determination alongside the overgrown jungle path was a mystery to him.
Prior to departing on the voyage, she had exchanged her ceremonial kimono for a her deep purple leather cuirass and armor plating.
The skin tight material allowed higher mobility than the unsightly kimono, even though it was unimaginably uncomfortable to wear in this heat. She had dismissed the change of attire to Tomo as a precautionary measure to any unforgiving wildlife they might discover in the ruins.

Trust was not something either of them could bring up for eachother. Koyasha was weary of Tomo's exact intentions in the ruins, and Tomo did not trust the armored guard the elders had ordered to accompany him. For his own protection they said...
Cries of strange and exotic animals sounded through the dense forest. Koyasha however, was not really nervous about those, neither was Tomo. Tomo had performed a thorough study on the local wildlife prior to departing on the expedition.

"We are here...", Koyasha spoke softly.
About ten meters in front of them suddenly loomed the dark structure.
It's fundaments blackened and vines protruding small cracks in the stone, the ominous temple seemed to be calling out to them.
The entrance was what seemed to resemble a heavily eroded staircase, down into the unholy depths of the earth

"Are you prepared, mr Scientist?" Koyasha asked in a tone of wich the severity seemed to match the environment perfectly.
Tomo nodded and together, they took the first step into what would become a tale of legends.

The large group was struggling through the dense forest with one sole man leading them, his name was Alfred. The black man was in his late twenties and was bold with a square jaw.
“Alfred can’t we take a rest, the men are tired,” the young girl said. “So what, they can rest after we’re done here, alright Catrina,” Alfred said. But Catrina was right the men were tired, you could smell their sweat in the humid air. Then they finally arrived at the city’s wall, the big white glistening surface was quite imposing.
“Jericho go take down that wall,” Alfred said with a smile.
Jericho who was dressed in green with black goggles, sneaked up to the one of the gates and planted the explosives, that looked like a green creature with no arms and four legs. He quickly ran back to the edge of the forest and took out a small remote with a green button in the middle of spherical remote. “Blow it, Jericho!” Alfred yelled. “That’ssss a nice wall you got there,” Jericho whispered and pressed the button. The wall collapsed like it was a box of match sticks. One of the pieces of the gate fell against the tower that was in between the two gates and took down the other gate too. They heard an alarm coming from the city and a voice that was yelling that there where intruders.
“Roll out the canons,” Alfred said.
Out of the shadows of the trees, giant steam powered cannons appeared. The vehicles where slow in targeting and were heavy armored. One of the cannons had stored enough steam power and fired it’s humongous cannon. The cannonball landed on to the marketplace which five minutes ago was still filled with lots of people but was now abandoned, all the food was now either squashed or on the floor of the plaza. Another cannonball hit the castle wall which was still upright but not for long, two other cannonballs followed swiftly and crumbled the wall under its own weight.
“Catrina tell me, did it hit the castle or not?” Alfred said.
Catrina was looking through her binoculars and answered with a yes. Suddenly one of the cannons was destroyed in a fireball engulfing the entire machine.
“What happened, can somebody tell me what the hell happened?” Alfred was yelling at anybody he could get his hands on.
“We happened,” the corporal was yelling through a megaphone.
“The fire was coming from tower thirty-four and tower three,” one of Alfred’s mercenaries was saying. “Well than bloody return fire,” Alfred said slightly angered, “Just burn the place down then.”
Out of the back of a transport vehicle a squad of five people wearing gas masks and carrying flamethrowers stepped out and headed for the collapsed gates. For carrying large heavy flamethrowers they were quite quick. The squad split up, one of them went to tower thirty-four and the other went to tower three, the remaining three went into the city to burn the city to a crisp. The pyrosoldier that went to tower thirty-four was named Carl and while going up the stairs came across a guard.
“Stop right there don’t move,” the guard yelled.
“Sure ok but can I fry?” Carl asked with a demonic smile not visible behind his mask.
“How do yo… Aaaaaaah,” the guard yelled as he got ‘fried’ to a crisp.
Carl stepped over the guard with a big step and continued his way up. When he was almost at the top of the tower, he stopped and peeked over the edge, two guards no weapons this is going to be easy, he thought. He took a bottle filled with a yellowish fluid an ignited the rope that was attached to the bottle, he then bounced it off of the ceiling at the feet of the guards and ran a bit back.
“What the hell is.. Aaaaaaah” the guards yelled.
At the same time the pyrosoldier that was going to tower three was also making her way up the tower. Alena had no trouble climbing up the tower, when she arrived at the top of the tower there were no guards there anymore.
“Well that’s strange, but on the other hand a bonus,” Alena said. The Captain of the squad, Michael, and his two lieutenants were making their way through the city. Burning down the houses of the villagers was a breeze for them.

The light pierced the age-old darkness of the Kikrit ruins. Through the darkness, one could make out a long hallway, the walls crumbling and falling apart with age.

Curiously, it seemed that the core structures of the ruins were very durable. out of the 14 records of exploration Tomo could find on the Kikrit ruins, not one mentioned any kind of cave-inns. Using those records, Tomo was able to draw an approximate map of the Kikrit Ruins.

The ruins were composed of a giant three dimensional maze consisting of 7 floors, each floor had multiple connections to all other 6 floors. His goal was to get to the bottom end of the bottommost floor, yet his "guide" would most certainly make things difficult for him.

He needed some kind of plan to make sure she couldn't interfere with him.

"tell me, miss Izuno. What do you know about the Kikrit ruins?" Tomo asked.

"What is there to know?" Izuno replied. "These ruins are merely a shadow of a former era. I am sure you will not find any useful knowledge here."

The ruins had one more defining feature. There existed all kinds of "hidden" connections between corridors that someone with the right knowledge could locate. He could discern those entrances with the 'Rock Analyser 2000'.

"for your sake, miss Izuno, I hope you know these ruins well enough to catch up with me." Tomo said, moving towards the wall. Raising his hand towards an oddly coloured piece of stone.

The realisation hit. The elders were right about one thing. This was not a mere scolar.

The wall shifted, transporting Tomo to the corridor on the other side of the wall, leaving Izuno behind in an unlit hallway.

Edit: this post was actually by ShredderMachine, but my account was accidentally still logged on when he did.

Finally he reached his first goal, he reached Capstan Island, a small village where he would use a small boat to cross the water to the island where he would walk to Saint-Anthony, a 17 hour walk, how joyful... He had already sent payment for the ride, seeing that nobody uses the boat at all. He immediately went to the harbor, wanting to get out of Canada as fast as possible. A small old woman stood behind her desk, reading a magazine.

"Excuse me?"

The woman looked up, she knew what he came for and gave him a letter. After that she closed the shutter. How friendly, he thought to himself. He read the letter. It said the ferry was not available and his money was attached to the paper with old-fashioned tape. On the other side of the paper were instructions to another port more south-west. Better start walking he thought to himself. When he was walking across the road he noticed a wild horse eating grass not far away. He sneaked towards it and quickly jumped on its back, the horse didn't give up so fast and kept struggling but after a wild battle, the horse was caught and wasn't running away anymore. He spurred the horse into action and quickly reached the other port, where the ferry was making preparations to leave. Right on time...

"Stand still in the name of the law!" the young police officer said as he pointed his sidearm at the sinister figure.

Slowly, the man in question turned around with an absurdly long blade clutched in his left hand. What had unmistakably been blood before lacing the blade's surface had now darkened in a tar-like smudge. The sword wielder's grin couldn't have been wider.

"Drop that sword on the ground, hold your hands against your head and lay down on the pavement, slowly!" the officer went on.

He couldn't loose focus, he had to take this maniac in, preferably without having to kill him.

"You see that?" the sword wielder said. "Of course you can't, only the holder can see the glow that comes off of Menhitir. It knows which target I'll pick next. It's yours, detective Miller."

The detective grinded his teeth. That thing knew its name. What did the chief say again? Those things have powers beyond that of our occult division, or any trained magic user could ever hope to achieve. Without any forethought, these guys could level city blocks at their whims and psychotic ways.

He fired before he knew what he was doing, it was the instinct that had been drilled into them and as he waited in one adrenaline-rushed second for the bullet to fly and dig itself into the sword wielder's skull, he realised what he'd done. He'd killed...

The air had rippled if only for a split-second and in that moment the bullet had shredded and thrown of course by an invisible shield around the sword wielder. That is if the detective could have actually seen the bullet flying. Shaking he tried to retain his aim. Not wasting any time asking 'what the hell' he shot three or four more bullets untill he emptied his clip. The whole time the psycho had smirked and held his sword in front of him. There wasn't a single dent in it. No time to reload, gotta...

It seemed the maniac was ready to use the full power of his sword on the detective after a short delay. What could he do? Hesitantly the detective reached for another magazine before he threw his gun and hit the sword wielder dead on, dropping him to the floor.

Now in his empty bedroom, in his bloody hands he held the sword, Menhitir. What did it mean... All those that were there to witness his power as he unleashed it downtown, had been killed or forced into a deep coma, like his senior partner. He was all that was left of the back-up after the blinding ray had hit their car as they came into the madman's line of sight.

And now he owned the murderous instrument. Should he bring it to evidence, say it wasn't destroyed? They didn't believe him when he said otherwise. Those things can't be destroyed, evaporated. They make sure of that. He remembered the story his partner had told him when they drove to a double homicide's crime scene. One day a teenager dressed up and used the sword he'd found to fight crime. With the unstoppable power of the sword, he succeeded to do so. Untill a crook beat his head in with a pipe from behind, snatching the sword, having hungered for the power of the sword. There are too many people in this world to do good with those cursed pieces of metal for long. There's always twice more people who want to use it to get revenge, thrice as many to rob a convenience store and five times as many that go on a murderous rampage out of apathy.

John ran down the spiral staircase. When he opened the hard oak door he was horrified. The city was burning like the fireplace he sat afront when he was younger. It was horrible. John saw children crying for their mothers and mothers searching for their children as they were driven to despair. He wasn’t just mad, he was enraged and saddened at the same time... How could this have happened, he asked himself.
He heard a blast, he turned around and saw that the huge wooden doors that protected the city from intruders had collapsed.
“They got in,” he thought.
John had to hurry to the castle to get the king out. Then he heard a second blast sounding like an oversized cannon shot. He looked at the gates and then looked back at the castle, he saw that the castle wall was hit by the oversized cannonball that had been fired through.
“Good god,” John said.
He was terrified by the devastating power. What did this? The walls of the castle where holding but were already crumbling under their own weight. Two more shots followed, one hitting the castle wall which was now little more than a pile of rubble. And the other one hit the glass dome on top of the castle splintering it on impact. While standing still for a brief moment, John stared at the once so beautiful castle which was now on its last stand. He started sprinting like he had never done before. Arriving in front of the castle, he knew it wasn’t going to be easy getting to the other side. The bridge was collapsed and lying crumbled in the moat. John noticed that the water was gone.
“But why,” he asked himself.
John walked to the edge, peeking over to look for a ladder of some sort. He couldn’t find one and jumped down into the moat. He immediately sunk a couple inches into the substance. John took a piece and felt it in his hand. It seemed to be wet clay.
“Hmp lucky me,” he thought.
He got up and decided there was no other way; He began scaling the rocky wall, which had formed crevasses due to the pounding of the cannonballs.
It was a treacherous climb and he tightened his arms’ muscles to hold on and not look down. He pulled himself over the edge and stood in front of the big imposing door. He gazed upward, then pushed the left door open…

He looked at a picture he held in his hands... It was torn around the edges, but was given a lot of care.
"Almost there, darling..." he said to himself.
He walked through the small shopping streets of a big city somewhere in Europe. He never tried to learn how to pronounce the name and never would. After a short walk, he found what he was looking for, a Harley Davidson bike store. He went in and came out not that much later with his newly bought motorcycle. He took it for a spin and enjoyed the wind blowing through his hair. His sword on his back felt the same way and seemed to be purring of enjoyment.

He was waiting in front of a red light when the building on the other side of the street exploded. All nearby people were thrown to the ground. The rest ran away in fear. Trigonius quickly steered his bike to the side of the road and dismounted. He took his faithful companion Tragact in his hand and ran towards the building.

"great, he thinks he's being smart", she sighed.
She walked casually to the opposite wall of the corridor and pulled one of the large carved stones out of the wall.
The wall, now sporting a hole the size of a small window allowed Izuno to slither through and fall down one floor.
Tunnels such as these where later added to the ruins by the clan to allow faster movement through the maze.
Of course, these tunnels where not described in any ancient texts, since they where hardly 50 years old.
The crawlspace was kept tiny, so as not to interfere with the structure's integrity.

"That little..." she muttered as she crawled on all four through the suffocating darkness.
"Making me ruin my clothes in this filth..."

She could hear a clumsy pounding above her, resonating through the large stones, it sounded like Tomo's muffled footsteps.
She thought that if he where actually running and perfectly new his way around the place, even the tunnels wouldn't allow her to keep up.
Her armor scraped the sides and top of the walls and the ancient dust started crawling inside her gloves.
Suddenly, she reached the end of the shaft. She started pusching against the large stone, which slid out of the wall and dropped down with a loud bang.
Izuno rolled out of the hole in the wall with a definite grace and started striding towards the now silent footsteps.
A scream echoed through the corridor, along with frantic scraping of metal over stone.
Hurrying was not exactly on her mind, so she walked calmly to the cries for help. She turned around a sudden corner and there he was, Tomo.

She sat down on her knees: "Welcome to basement level one, this floor is filled with traps, but I'm sure you already new that." She smirked.
Tomo was dangling down a large hole in the middle of the walkway, preventing his fall with a metal pickaxe stuck inside the dusty wall of the pitfall.
"Help me! Get me out of here!", he screamed with pure, undistilled angst.

"I'll have to think about that", Izuno spoke with a sudden cold voice.

IF Tomo could name one positive thing about a less-than-avarage physical condition, it was simply that people tended to underestimate him.

Izuno was right to assume that Tomo would never be able te outrun her. Yet, she still gave him time to set up a trick of his own. One of these being a simple illusion, Which Izuno mistook for the real Tomo.

Nevertheless, He had other worries right now. It was true that Tomo didn't know the location of every trap. He had no choice but to slow down in order to find them, while Izuno could simply avoid them. He theorized that She had memorised the layout of the ruins. Furthermore, the illusion wouldn't last long, and could be broken if Izuno tried to interact with it. He only had time to place a audiovisual illusion, with the extra feature of sending out a signal if it was broken. Placing extra illusions would cost too much time, and Tomo figured that Izuno was smart enough to not fall for the same type of illusion twice.

The ruins were a fascinating place to explore. It was difficult not to appreciate the subtle elegance that lied within its halls, not to mention the advanced mechanisms that were used to power all manner of devices, ranging from doors to the ever present hidden passages. He could find several hidden passages not documented in the maps he constructed, but didn't dare to use theml, out of fear of losing all sense of direction.

By the time he got to the third level, he recieved the signal. It seemed that Izuno had finally realised that she spent the last ten minutes staring at a simple, stupid illusion.

They knew, didn't they. Ian saw how they looked at him and his unusually baggy backpack. Deep in the back of their head they pondered on what could be inside that backpack and sharply the thought went to their frontal lobes: it held a sword, that could kill them all. Also in the back of their mind, an instinct had been grown that said sucking up to any sword-wielding individual was decidedly pointless, as the chances of them being sliced up by one or the other sword improved marginally if they tried to please its owner. So instead, they contorted their faces into permanent scowls as the tall, dark stranger passed them by on the main street. Every time he saw the eyes of the villagers as he seemed to be compelled to go towards the shops and groceries in the latest town he visited in question, he felt uneasy, he couldn't shake off the feeling that they personally hated him for all the atrocities the swords had committed. Even as he tried his hardest, he couldn't escape the anguish these powerful objects caused. Could they be alive?

He had to find out, preferably sooner than later. On the run, thinking of a way to put an end to this mess...

"Hey, you!" a big guy said, not having quite sobered up.

Oh no, not him again. He was looking at him this time, wasn't he?

Ian looked up and saw the man eye him with a clenched jaw and his fist held up to his face, ready to end up in the teenager's face. He wasn't quite rational or that clear in the head, but that little voice inside his head said that he couldn't deny a teen was in possession of a sword. The collective of all the people in the little town depended on him, so he thought.

"You're a sword wielder, aren't you? I'm not messing around this time. I'm gonna beat you up and make you pay for your drinks. All your drinks! Bloody mother's drinks..." the man mumbled.

This man was clearly out of his mind, but not that well coordinated as well. With a little effort, he could wear the guy out with some instinctive dodging. But Ian didn't quite have a peak physical condition, nor was he that good at evasive maneuvers. He tackled his verbal problems head-on and the rest... he tried his best to avoid. Run away, maybe.

Behind him, he heard the gravel grinding under gripping shoes as another assailant approached him, no doubt the man's friend coming to calm him down. Or another drunk madman with some anger issues audibly dragging a baseball bat over the paved road. That metal sound was real and coming closer...

"Hey you, I wouldn't come closer if I were you," the madman said.

Ian turned out as he realised the second attacker didn't sound like a madman at all. It was the pitch and tone of a regular teen just like him. Apart from the gender and all that is. As he looked behind him, he saw the girl standing proudly in her light blue jeans and dark green hoodie, pulled back to reveal her wavy long brown hair curling across her forehead and temples as she held up the long, straight sword she'd been dragging to announce her presence. She pointed it towards the drunk, staring into the man's frail little mind with her big brown eyes as she moved the sword in such a way as if she suggested she was threatening to unleash the cold blade onto his entrails at any whim she had. In the man's dozed condition, he didn't realise the cutting edge any sharp object had on his bare fists and showed of his muscles and top-heavy physique.

"Whatcha gonna do now, small girl?" the man said.

"Cut off a finger?" the girl suggested.

The man clenched his square jaw as he ran towards Ian, determined to avenge whoever was on his mind for those two seconds in his drunken state, only yelling and collapsing to his massive knees when a sharp pain went through his being and he wrapped his big hand up with its counterpart, yelping as he cried out:

"My hand, my ****ing hand, you cut it, you cut it!"

He staggered off as he tried to find a familiar place, like the cafe, clenching his hand as the blood kept streaming. One glance of the girl made her wipe of the tip of the sword with a handkerchief before calmly sheathing it by her side.

"Did you..." Ian said as he stumbled back and tried to quickly decide if he was up for a run. The second psychopath this week, err, first. Those dreams again, of a teen megalomaniac destroying the world... He had to make a choice, now.

The wrinkled and dark frown that had rested on the girl's forehead as she threatened the big drunk guy had disappeared as quickly as she'd put it on as she smiled at Ian.

"Don't worry," she said.

The piercing brown eyed gaze remained as Ian tried to avert his eyes.

"I checked, he still got all his fingers, he's just bleeding a lot from his hand. Though, you can never be too sure if that middle finger just happened to hang on by a thread or two," the girl said as if this was daily business for her. She didn't look it, but with a thousand people possessing these swords, there was bound to be some variation in... appearance. For all he knew, she was a cold-blooded killer. That still didn't do him any good though.

"I suppose..." Ian said as he opened his backpack without taking it off and reached in to take out the large chunk of metal.

"What is...", Izuno muttered as the image started flickering like an old television.
The second she had reached out to grab Tomo's hand, his image became fussy and unclear.
She could hardly believe she fell for that, a stupid hologram!
She had heard of the expression "to facepalm oneself" before, she believed this to be an extreme example of such a moment.

"Great, every moment I falter or delay that fat little brat is just going to set up more of those tricks," She sighed to herself.
Suddenly, her gaze trailed of towards the dust on the floor.
She could see the awkwardly placed footprints of a fat little piggy trail of towards the lower levels.
"This time I've got you", she though to herself as she darted of after Tomo.

Tomo's progress was slow. Analyzing every brick and stone with his 'Rock Analyser 2000' was a slow process.
He had come to a dead end and the device had marked the far wall as a thin layer of stone, recently set up to halt intruders.
He heaved his pickaxe through the air and hit the wall with a loud bang.
A hole, the size of a smallfootball is what remained of his incredible feat of power.
He inched closer to the wall and peered through the opening. All he could see was an inky darkness.
Setting up his flashlight, so that he could illuminate the dark room and see through the hole at the same time, he could make out a faint shape several feet away.
"What an amazing discovery, an ancient statue!" He said excitedly.
Suddenly, the so called statue dashed for him, reached from the other side of the wall through the hole and seized Tomo by the neck.
She pulled his chubby little face against the wall and whispered in his ear: "Got you."
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHH", he shrieked!
Tomo started kicking and screaming like a frantic schoolgirl.

Tomo did not expect that his excursions in the ruins would end so soon. Sure, the "opponent" was a highly skilled assasin, but still...
"He should have been more careful, he should have put more decoys, he should have...."

Suddenly, a loud crack erupted from the walls around them. The impact of the pickaxe had destabilised the immediate environment, causing a sudden collapse of the hallway.
The moment Izuno realised what was about to happen, she ran away from the danger zone, leaving Tomo behind to die in a pile of rubble.

However, Luck was on Tomo's side.

Before Tomo could be crushed under the rock falling down from the ceiling, the very floor collapsed. This allowed him to evade the brunt of the impact, while granting him access to yet another floor.

Inside, Izuno was overflowing with rage. Not only had Tomo escaped her grasp, a whim of fate had also decided that the hole in the floor was covered under a pile of rubble, denying her direct access.

How was it that this insignificant, weak... THING could possibly be so lucky as to escape her twice?

Tomo could not believe how lucky he was. He decided to make use of the time that fate so conveniently bought him.

It was clear to him now that her skills were way too good for him too outrun. He would have no other choice than to buy time trying to make her fall into the various traps of the ruins.
He began by analyzing the area around him. THe Rock Analyser 2000, while very slow in its working, allowed him to detect various types and their associated triggers. Through this method, he realised that all triggers were arranged in a common pattern, whioch could be used to evade said triggers.

Afterwards, he focused his mind, creating a few illusions that woudl cover the triggers to conceal them.
a special case were those of the classic pitfall traps. Instead of just covering the triggers, he chose to activate them and cover the entire pitfall with a simple, yet effective illusion.

with any luck, Izuno would fall into one of those pitfalls, and be so infuriated that she would not notice the subtle pattern shifting through his illusions. If that were to happen, there was a slight chance that she were to trigger a chain reaction, buying him enough time to get to the lowest point.

A boulder rolled aside, Trigonius climbed up from beneath it. A simple cough was enough to clear his lungs from the stone dust that had filled them earlier. It was clear from the start that that explosion had something professional about it. Suddenly Trigonius heard a second cough, it sounded soft... and female. He jumped to just above the rubble, from which he heard the sound coming. He threw the rocks aside and found a young woman that had just woken up from her unconscious state.

"Are you alright?"

The words cut his throat before leaving his mouth with a scrapping sound. The person just nodded, maybe she suffered from the same sore throat. He helped her up, she suddenly shuddered when she heard the police sirens filling the small collapsed space they were in.

"Guess you want to meet those police men as much as I do. Let's go."

He put his hands under her knees and lifted her after which he quickly ran from the sirens, which sounded very close now...

He had easily passed the police cars and was riding away from the city with his motorcycle and perhaps a new companion. He felt her grip tightening as he turned sharply into corners. He felt her warmth against his back and noticed something: his sword, Trigact, it was gone!

As John opened the door he felt sunlight hitting his face. The large stone dome that was once the highest point in the village had collapsed and now sunlight was coming through.
He stepped on top of the red carpet that was now almost black of ash. John continued through the throne room past the statues of great heroes. After looking at the statues and paintings for a few seconds he moved on. He walked up to the throne, but went past it and instead opened a door to the right of the throne. The door opened with a creaking sound which didn’t seem to bother John at all. John went up the stairs and took a right into a hall. He almost opened the king’s door when he heard a noise coming from the sword room. John continued down the hall and was met by a louder groan. He opened the door and found the king lying under a pile of rubble.

“John!” The king said.

“My lord, are you alright?” John asked.

He moved a chunk of rubble and saw that the king was heavily wounded. “Sir…”

“There is no time John, take Sleza, our nation’s relic and leave before they get you too.” The king said while groaning once more.

John nodded, he got back on his feet and broke the glass of the display case. John carefully lifted Sleza out of the case.

“You have it, now leave John!” The king yelled.

“Your death won’t be for nothing sir,” John said.

“Thank you son, now leave before they kill you and take the sword,” The king said.

“But how my King?” John asked.

The king took out a walkie-talkie from under his robe an extended the antenna.

“Chuck? Chuck? Are you there Chuck?” The king asked.

The walkie-talkie cracked and a voice came through: ”Yes my lord I’m here.”

“Chuck land your plane and take John with you to France you’ll be save there,” The king said.

“What about you Sir?” the voice answered back.

“I’m afraid I’m too wounded to come with you” The king answered.

The king gave the walkie-talkie to John and he went back through the door…

The blade had appeared to him in his dream. Detective Sumner’s dream. It had appeared freakishly long, spanning the horizon and cutting it in two, separating heaven and earth and beckoning Sumner to use its power. What was its power?

Half asleep he jumped out of bed throwing away the sword in his dream through the window out of his life. He opened his eyes. It was still dark and he looked around aimlessly for the sword. Then he remembered he’d put it away in a separate compartment in his closet. He hadn’t opened it to look at the thing since he hid it. He wasn’t about to.

Whatever its power was, he knew he could use it the right way. Yet, it had corrupted everything and everyone it touched. What made him think he was different, that he would be able to resist it?

Maybe he could ask around at the occult department of the police force, he knew people there who could tell him some more about what magic could and could not do, if there were any limits at all to the legendary swords’ power. He’d have to call ‘her’ that he was going to be late again. She’d understand. He would say he wanted to visit his partner who was still in a coma. He was going to do that of course, but he was gonna head by the occult department as well. Magic. Pain. Suffering. In comparison technology shone a light on the world.

Completed:

CHA-05: Teenage robot with organic skin starting war of sabotage and love.

The helpless look on his face was a window in the cold realm of the afterlife.
As the small curved blade made it's way through the boy's ribcage, the accursed sword fell form his weakened hands.
With a soft thud the blood covered weapon hit the sand.
The man fell backward, hitting his head on the floor.
He coughed up blood, gurgling sounds that Izuno couldn't possibly understand.
She crouched next to the desecrated body:"I'm sorry... Ian."

She stood up and walked over to Tomo, sitting and clutching his leg near the gate.
"Are you ok? Can you move?"
"It's just a fleshwound, Iz. I'll be allright, just take care of the sword!"
She could see blood running from under his hands, held over the cut on his right leg.
"That bastard Ian, he should have known better..."

Still coughing up blood, she suddenly noticed the almost unnatural moving Ian take hold of his sword again.
"That's ridiculous, no person could have survived that!" She screamed.
His breathing was heavy, almost mechanical in nature.
He did not have it in himself however to lift himself up from the dusty floor.
Izuno towered over the body and gazed at was once a proud, independant man.
For this to be the power of that sword...
"Don't take it away from me!" He cried out, clutching the sword to his chest.
It was more of a plead for mercy than anything else.
It was like a drug, nestling it's tendrils in his mind.

The pulsating stream of blood coming from his chest started mixing with the cold, powdery dust on the floor.
She grabbed the sword and pulled it away from his frantically grabbing hands.
Izuno cast the sword aside, out of Ian's reach.
She ignored his ramblings, they where of little importance.

She took a step back and looked up.
There it was. The massive, ... unnatural sphere.
Merely looking at it almost made her nauxious.
It was a sphere, but at the same time wasn't.
An alien geometry dictated this place and she was but a one-dimensional dot, in an infinity of space.

It was finally over.
Tomo slowly limped towards Ian's body, cursing the wound on his leg.
"Dammit Ian, curse you and your sense of responsibility", Tomo muttered, checking Ian's state. As bad as it was, he was astonished.
He was still alive, barely.

Tomo could not bear the sight of Ian choking in his blood, and decided that he should at least make sure that Ian would survive this ordeal. Besides, even if time could not heal his corruption, his body would still be stabilized sufficiently to fully document the effects of the sword.
After making sure his life signs were stable, Tomo could focus his attention on the sphere.

Suddenly, he felt the heavyness of the sphere on him, its raw presence dominating his mind. All that they had done, all they had achieved, seemed so insignificant to the infinity of the sphere.

One thing was certain, the power that the sphere held was not one that could be controlled.

Flash Forward concluded, Back to the present.

Tomo had managed to buy some time once again. he was almost through the ruins, only one floor away from his goal. Except that he now was stuck somewhere between the sixth and seventh floor. He had stumbled across a hidden passage.

This part was even more ancient thatn the other parts of the ruins. A faint, nnatural light filled the hall with no apparent source, resulting in a striking view of the walls, who were ornamented with elaborate murals and characters. Concluding that it would probably take a while for Izuno to reach this part, Tomo went to study the murals, taking pictures with a camera for later studies.

The Murals seemed to show some kind of story regarding some kind of... sphere, surrounded by swords.
Following after that, another part showed one sword surrounded by a black aura, whose tendrils seemed to reach out to something similar to a human.
The final Mural showed 2 figures standing in the light, and then.... nothing.

That was it. Age seemed to have corroded the final part.

Last edited by Fitzwim; 7th November 2012 at 5:24 PM.
Reason: One-time edit for better character consistency

I immediately went back to the destroyed building, I once again snuck past the police officers and started looking at the spot where I woke up under the rubble. I tossed the surrounding rocks to the side but Trigact was nowhere to be found.
Suddenly I heard someone coming closer. I turned around, grabbing a stone in the proces to defend myself. The girl stood in a half doorway, lifting her arm to point to a building across the street where men were walking from one side to another, seemingly cleaning up after something.
I understood quite quickly what she was trying to say, how, I don't know. I quickly found my way to the roof of the other building and found cover behind a cooling unit. The girl sat next to me.

"Hands up, you!"

I had been discovered, I slowly stood up, lifting my hands in the air.

"She too!"

I lifted the girl, but when I wanted to raise my hands again, she didn't let go. She closed her hands around my own. She lit up, blinding everyone around her. When the light lessened the girl had vanished, and she had left a small long sword in my hands. The henchmen on the roof, startled by the light, opened fire on me. The sword felt incoming danger and lengthened itself to make a dome around me, made of steel. Bullets collided with the steel, sending a small vibration, almost like a scream, through the handle.
The dome grew bigger, sweeping the men off the roof. The sword transformed into the girl, but this time, her arms were covered in bruises. She looked into my eyes and for the first time, I saw her smile.